Happy Birthday, Kurosaki Ichigo
by burst 'N bloom
Summary: You’re 18, happy birthday Kurosaki Ichigo. You won’t be the man you wanted to be when you were younger and you’ll never have the woman you wanted because she’s dead and has been for a while. IchiRuki. R&R!


Disclaimer: Bleach isn't mine! (though I sorta wish it was T_T)

This is sort of experimental, but I liked writing it. It came out really naturally I think (hopefully it isn't choppy... and you can understand it).

Well, read and review if you liked it, and if you didn't, constructive criticism is well-received! :)

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You're 18. **18, damnit**. And you're still the spineless coward you were before all that happened. Before she came along and flipped your world upside down.

You're 18 and nothing you can say will get you into college or take you to a white collar job like you thought – you aren't going to med school and you aren't becoming a yakuza member and you're not going to be a father, but you _are_ going to die. Because you've changed but you're still the same child you always were. And in the end, you'll die like anyone else in the world, and then… what?

You're 18 and you've never slept with a woman until last night, and right now she's lying down next to you, sleeping calmly. She has a soft smile on her face and the blankets are clinging to her naked form, clutching the curve of her breasts, the long line of her legs, and her hair is wild along the mattress and your pillow, shading the darkness a steep vivid orange. And you think to yourself, I'm 18 and I've just slept with a woman and she is beautiful. _But it didn't mean a thing to you_. You're 18, but inside, you're still 15.

15, like when you first met the one you knew you wanted for the rest of your life – 15, like when your life flipped over and never fixed itself again. 15, like when you gave up your chances at happiness in this world. But you always thought to yourself, maybe the next world won't be so bad.

She was like a breeze in the wind, sailing in so unexpectedly and fluttering down at your feet, taking you places you'd never imagined. She was like a drug, dragging you to new worlds and introducing you to strange feelings and emotions, like protection, sacrifice, desire, and _love_. She taught you to be a hero, taught you survival, and gave you a reason to live. She taught you life, yet ironically, she was dead.

You're 18 right now and you still see her now and then, but she thinks you're with the woman lying next to you. You're 18 and taller, broader, more muscular, with the soft shadow of stubble lining your chin, but she's still the same. She looks exactly the same as she did when you were 15. She never changed.

You're 18, _happy birthday Kurosaki Ichigo_. You won't be the man you wanted to be when you were younger and you'll never have the woman you wanted because she's dead and has been for a while. Your life centers around her. She changed your dreams and aspirations, changed your emotions and focused it all on her and her dead world, which felt strangely more alive than the world you live in now.

The woman in your bed feels like a stranger, a dead stranger who stumbled into your world. You took her because she wanted you to, _so desperately_. Because she would've given anything to be yours. She knows inside that she'll never really be yours, but maybe she thinks that if you're inside her and you feel her, maybe you'll brush against that tendril of emotion she's hiding in her chest and you'll feel it too.

But you don't. And you won't the next time you sleep with her either. Or ever.

One day, she comes crying because she's scared – scared that she's pregnant and that she won't know what to do. You think back to Rukia and remember that you never thought you'd be a father because Rukia's body was a fleshy creation of a mad scientist, and when she was just a spirit she was incapable of womanhood.

It's sad when the thing you want is sitting there and you know you can't have it. It's sad. Someday, you know you'll marry the woman lying down at your side, because that's the way life goes. It's the nature of society and_ she might be pregnant_. Even if she wasn't, you couldn't have married Rukia anyways.

_Because she's dead. Because she's not a part of this world._

So you don't even try.

It's sad, because she'll probably be one of the bridesmaids in her fake flesh body and her painted smile. She'll be laughing and smiling, clutching arms with the dead fleshy body of a redhead tattooed groomsman and honestly wishing you a happy lively marriage. She'll laugh because it's a joyous occasion but you'll be falling apart on the inside because it's her you want, and it's not who you're getting. It's sad because you've always thought of her – when has your mind ever not been on her?

Happy birthday, Kurosaki Ichigo. You're 18, and there isn't a damn thing left for you in this world but to die and finally be happy. Maybe the next world will be better.  
You'll be 28 when you die, with a wedding band on your ring finger. And you'll be happy to go, so damn happy when you see her with her glittering white sword raised, ready to send you to the other world.

_Happy birthday, Kurosaki Ichigo. Maybe the next world will be better._

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AN: Andddd done! hmmm, I don't know, I wish I could think of a better ending but whatever. I liked writing it!  
please review! :)


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